The Kept Secret
by gleefanatic2011
Summary: Santana is the sex ed teacher at McKinley. She and Puck are the only ones left in Lima. When the others return for a visit, Santana and Brittney are left alone. They reconnect during the night. Will Santana finally come out of the closet?


The sound of my heels echo through the tiled hall ways of McKinley. I'm the first teacher here this morning, as I planned. Usually, I'm the last one here, arriving right before the tardy bell rings for first period, disheveled hair and smeared lipstick from the morning sex with my husband. However, this morning I'm planning on having super hot sex with Puck, a fellow Glee clubber from my high school days. Puck, like me, was sentenced to a life stuck in the prison that is Lima, Ohio. Lauren, his former girlfriend, left him when she made it to the WWE thing. I would say something bitchy to this, but since I'm one of the only one's stuck in this lame town, I can't say a damn thing. Puck, I've heard, still runs his pool cleaning business. It's been a year since I've seen or talked to him last, longer since I've talked to the others. I have no problem with that. I look at the white board on the wall. It's covered of pictures of me from my high school days. There are pictures of me performing in the Cheerios outrageous numbers, singing in the Glee competitions, Brittney and I hanging out together. I actually miss her. The feelings of love I had for her had never gone away. "Hey, Santana," Someone says behind me. I spin around, and there's Puck. He still has his Mohawk and he still dresses the way he used to in high school, even though graduation was ten years ago. It doesn't matter though. He is the sexiest thing on the planet. "Let's make this quick." I say. I stride over to the door and smash my lips to his. _Damn, they taste good, _I think. The door slams shut as I rip Puck's shirt off of him. "Where?" He asks simply. I point at my desk. He pushes everything to the floor and lays me down on it. His lips meet my collar bone, my hands meet his belt. Soon, we are naked and sweaty, loving every second of it. "I've forgotten how sexy you are." Puck grunts. "Less talking and more sex would be nice." "Right," He agrees. Soon, we are finished, our chests heaving with our ragged breaths. "I hope you don't mention this in your sex ed. classes later." I slap him on his bare, muscular chest. Suddenly, all I want is for him to be gone. This isn't what I wanted at all. "You have to leave now, Puck." I reapply my lipstick and put my underwear back on. "What? I thought we could reconnect or something." "What do you think we just did? I know you can't be as stupid as you used to be." "But," Puck started. "I said leave!" I bellow. "Fine," He sighs. I watch as he bends down to grab his boxers, hoping and praying… but nothing. "Maybe we can do this again sometime." I whisper. "So I can be tossed to the side again like a child's toy?" "Which is exactly what we did to people in high school?" "Yes, it was, but I don't do that anymore. I'm getting older, I want a family." Puck said. "That's funny, Puck. Besides, you have a family, with Quinn." "I don't have a family. Beth was given up for adoption, remember?" "Just get out of my class room." I snarl. Puck puts on the rest of his clothes, and heads toward the door. "Oh, by the way, Rachel called me last week. Everyone is coming back here to visit us. Apparently, they miss the Lima losers." Puck closes the door, and leaves. _Oh shit_, I scream inside my head. If they come back, I'll be ashamed of everything. If I see Brittney, everything will be ruined.

…

"Mono is an STD, class, not an English prefix. It's one I am very familiar with. I actually built immunity to it." I boast. My immunity to Mono is one of the things I'm most proud of. What else do I have to be proud of, after all? "Mrs. Lopez," Some ugly freak is looking at one of my pictures. "What's going on in this one?" I look at the picture he is pointing at. It's the picture from my first Regional's competition in Glee. I tell them the story of that day and how we lost. I still remember that day like it was yesterday. "Will you sing for us?" The students ask. "Um, sure, I guess I will." I haven't sung as much as a note since graduation so I wondered if I would sound as amazing as I used to. I open my mouth and start to sing. "You know that I hate this song, you know that I hate this song, because it was written for you." I belt out. I've dedicated I Hate This Song by Secondhand Serenade to Brittney. It's very fitting, I think. My voice is still as beautiful as it was in high school, and my students agree. "That was amazing!" one of them says. "You can't get any sexier." Another says. I'm pretty sure he's touching himself as he says this. "Well, let's get back to our STD lesson now." I turn back to the board and write **AIDS**. "I'm sure you all know about this one!"

…

That night, I pull into my driveway with a huge stack of papers to grade. I walk up the small stone steps to my piece of shit house. I didn't notice the other cars pulling into my driveway. I throw the papers down on the kitchen counter and start to cook dinner. My lazy, good for nothing husband, Micah, thawed out steaks, again. I shove them in the oven and start to boil some water for rice. Micah walks in with the nurse outfit I wore in high school the day I kissed the sick kid with Mono. It turns him on. "Hey babe," He says, grabbing my ass. "Not tonight, Micah, I'm too tired." The real reason was because I had already had sex and I couldn't deal with it again, knowing it's not the kind I want. "Oh, alright. I'll be back later then." He goes into the living room and grabs his car keys, heading for the bar, but the door flies open and all of the Glee club from my high school days spill into my small house. Micah pushes past them and gets in his crap car. "Hey, girl, what's up?" Mercedes cries. "What the hell are you guys doing here?" I scream. "Well, we came to see you, but obviously, we stopped at a bar, and they all got drunk. I didn't though; I have a reputation as the only movie star who isn't wacked out on all that stuff!" Rachel says. She's still as annoying as she was in high school. "Did you know that alcohol makes my nails turn different colors?" Brittney stumbles out of the crowd and traps me in an embrace. "How many times do we have to go over this? All it does to you is make you an even bigger slut than you already are." Artie smiles up from his wheel chair as Brittney falls over onto him. Finn and Quinn are holding hands, wedding rings on their fingers, Sam and Tina are making out, surprisingly, and then everyone else is just standing there looking at me. We all sit down and catch up. I ignore everything Brittney says. Rachel is the only one who made it into show business. Everyone else are doctors or lawyers or therapists. As we all run out of things to say, my former friends leave and go back to their comfy lives, all but Brittney. "Do you want to talk about why you have barely said anything to me?" Brittney asks. "Not really," I rub my hands on my thighs, looking at the wall above Brittney's head. "This is just like high school. Don't you remember what Mrs. Holiday said? Don't you remember how we sang Landslide?" "Yes, Brittney, I remember that. I also remember you turning me down." I feel tears welling up in my eyes. _Shit_, I think, _why can't I be strong_? "I guess you still haven't completely come out yet. Why are you living like this? Why aren't you with a girl, Santana?" Brittney's voice is soft, quiet, filled with compassion. "I told you years ago. The only girl I want to be with is you! That didn't happen and it won't happen. You're with Artie." I stand up and glide into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator. "I'm not with Artie. We are the only ones here." I can't help but smile. "Brittney, why did you come here today? I don't need this. I'm fine with being in a relationship with a guy. It's all I've ever known and it's all I ever will know apparently." The tears are spilling from my eyes now. I hate this. Crying isn't what I do. "Yes you will. I came here for one reason, Santana. I wanted to tell you that I want to be with you. I'm not divorcing Artie, but I want to give us a shot. Tonight." I finally look at her. Her fingers are unbuttoning her shirt. I wipe away the tears to make sure I'm seeing things right. "I've never stopped loving you. I've dreamt about this for years." Brittney says as she walks towards me. "Kiss me," I whisper, and she does. For the first time ever, I feel fireworks. I reach up and run my fingers through her hair, loving the feeling. Let's Make Love by Faith Hill and Tim McGraw pops into my head and I start to sing it. Brittney joins in as she pushes me onto the couch. "Let's make love, all night long." I sing. Brittney lifts my shirt over my head, leaving me in my bra and skirt. She's already down to just her underwear. We kiss again, deeply and passionately. This, I realize, is exactly what I want. My bra falls to the floor, as does Brittney's. She nuzzles my neck, kisses my shoulder, and runs her fingers down my skin. I sigh with pleasure. Her lips touch my breasts, my stomach. Her hands reach for my panties, pull them down.

…

The next morning, I wake up in Brittney's arms. Micah's car still isn't here, which is a very good thing. Brittney wakes up and kisses my neck, then gets up, puts on her clothes. "Where are you going?" I ask, fear in my voice. "I have to go, Santana. It was a wonderful night." "You don't have to go! Brittney, I love you. I think I'm finally ready to let my secret be known. I need your help to tell everyone. I can't do it on my own." Tears sting my eyes again. "Yes, Santana, you can. You are strong. When you finally tell people, let me know. I have to go to Artie now though. Call me sometime." She leans in to kiss me, but just like all those years ago I tell her to get away from me. "I can't believe you are doing this to me again." "I'm sorry. Goodbye, Santana." Brittney spins on her heels, and closes the door. I start sobbing, unable to breath. How could my life be like this? _Screw them all_, I think. I hope they never come back. I don't need any of them, and none of them need me. I'll make the best of my life, and it won't involve them.


End file.
